


He Sighs, Goodnight

by MarbleAide



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Bloodplay, Drugged Sex, Gore, Knifeplay, M/M, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Snuff, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perfect gets boring sometimes.</p><p>But Jim can fix that. </p><p>[HEED THE WARNINGS]</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Sighs, Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> This story if fucked up. Really fucked up. If you don't like one or more of those tags please be aware you will probably not like this.

There was a fight. Fight enough that Jim’s got bruises around his neck, his jaw cracks and it’s quickly followed by a throb to which he only laughs through it simply making it worse. He’s got marks on his arms from blunt nails digging into skin, making the raw flesh underneath sting with the cool air, blood bubbling up to spot, but not enough to really dribble downwards. Sort of a pity that, but Jim figures his dear Tiger has given him enough wounds. He did go down fighting in the end and, well, that’s the best he can really ask for. It’s not like Jim was playing fair, after all. Not that Jim ever did.

He’s got Sebastian laid out on the bed, flopped him up like some dead fish as the bigger man groaned softly, head rolling on his shoulders as his eyes tried their hardest to focus on something. Anything. But everything’s just too far away, it seems, and all he can really see are blurs in the distance that shift and shift back and forth with the world spinning around his vision. His limbs are heavy. His entire body is heavy. The movement to breathe takes all his concentration, feeling as if bricks were paved down in the lining of his lungs. He has to continuously think about it, almost scared that if he doesn’t his body won’t remember on its own and he’ll ultimately die from lack of oxygen. How pathetic a way to go.

And Jim has to laugh. Has to laugh every time he sees the spasm of muscle in Sebastian’s arms. Loosening, tightening, and loosening again underneath the skin to make the surface ripple. His fingers twitch. Jim can feel the blood thumping through his veins in a beat, steady and slow. He’s really beautiful like this. All laid out and compliant without the need for bondage, without any more fight or argument left in his useless body.

It’s difficult to undress him with his body so very dead, but Jim enjoys the slow drag and takes the time to mutter out little sweet nothings to his darling pet. To soothe his aches and tell him how good he is, how perfect in every way and how much Jim loves him. Loves him so much. Adores everything about him, mind and body—especially his body. When Sebastian comes home smelling like dirt and sweat and rain mixed with blood that’s run off in the gutters. How his tongue always tastes like nicotine and his skin always tastes like salt. How beautiful his blood is against his skin and how pretty the scars are as they turn pink to white and fade. Beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful, but perfect beauty gets boring. Terribly boring. And Jim oh-so hates boring people.

So, he has to change that.

The last of the cloth barriers should come as an annoyance, but that’s what knives and toys with sharp edges are for. He doesn’t do it because he has to, he does it for the dramatics of it. Does it because he sinks the knife down just that much too deep and cuts past fabric right into skin. He can feel the sudden change in material, the way flesh doesn’t tear so easily and for just a second he pauses with the knife tip sunk into Sebastian’s skin. He blinks, looking up at his loyal companion and only sees the pain register in his eyes. Sees the fear there as Sebastian’s breathe hitches oh-so-slightly. He’d drooling. It’s pathetic and beautiful all at once. Jim laughs again, tightens his grip on the knife’s hilt, and applies more pressure. The body under his fingers jerks in the slightest manner in reply, only making Jim pull down, continuing to tear away Sebastian’s pants that stain with deep red as he goes.

There’s the new feeling of muscle under that sharp point. He’s sunk down deep enough to get right down there, feel the threads and wires of Sebastian’s thigh rip and bleed out. Sebastian would probably have a slight limp for the rest of his life after this. He wouldn’t be able to stretch the leg as much, kneel in the manor he favors when holding a gun on a rooftop. He’d glare and curse under his breath but say nothing. He’d clutch at his thigh on rainy days and rub it raw when it got too cold.

Jim smiles. He snickers. Fucking laughs at the mental image because, god, it would be so good to see.

The pants are slipped away from Sebastian’s legs when cut enough to move without having to deal with the shifting of a lax body. They land with a sicken ‘slap’ of blood drenched fabric on the floor. It makes Jim shiver. From above, Sebastian lets out a gurgling sound.

Sighing dreamily, Jim looks down at the long cut dribbling down his lover’s leg, staining the bedding underneath so quickly and so thick Jim images they’ll both be drenched any moment. He also images sticking his fingers in the wound, picking at the skin until he can get a grip on it and peel; peel until Sebastian manages a proper reaction, until Jim’s got a good slab of flesh in his hands, pull on it until it narrows out into a thin strip and rips away. He wants to hear the scream. See the blood. Be able to look right inside Sebastian’s body, all his insides and see if he’s oh so perfect in there as well and oh, _oh_ , **_oh._  **

Jim doesn’t ( _yet_ ) and continues.

With Sebastian’s so very loosened like this, so much more than any natural attempt could bring, Jim can slip two fingers inside the man without a problem. A little dab of lube and three are inside him, feeling already stretch out. Jim plays around for a little while, wiggles his fingers and presses as hard as he can go before pulling back slowly while his finger nails scratch against the sensitive walls of Sebastian’s insides. He continues this in and out press/scratch until his fingers come out red. He figures Sebastian is ready then.

The slide in his gorgeous, silky smooth and simply open in a way Jim’s only ever thought a woman could be. It’s poetic as he has his hips flush against Sebastian’s backside, finds the feeling of it makes him gasp like finding religion. He looks down when he pulls out, finds his cock smeared with red and purrs at the sight. Looking up, Sebastian’s as limp as ever barely even breathing now as tears leak out of the corner of his eyes silent as the grave.

The pace Jim takes is slow, steady, letting that feeling in his stomach build up and burn for a long, long, time. By the time Jim finds himself growing bored, his darling Tiger seems to be growing pale. It’s probably because of the beautiful wound, which only makes Jim ‘tsk’ as no one is ever grateful for their gifts.

He leans up, still inside Sebastian, and slaps him hard to stir him from whatever half-conscious state he had taken up.

“Baby,” He says, all sing-song and sweet, “Pay attention, the best part is coming up.”

In reply, all Sebastian does is blink, attempt to raise his head to look ever the obedient pet and only succeeds in getting his head to turn slightly, facing the ceiling now instead of the wall. It’s good enough, Jim figures, at least he tried.

The knife is still within reaching distance, making it so Jim moves only the slightest bit to reach it. He leans back just a little, let’s his dick slip out of Sebastian’s hole and lay stiff against his thigh now. The knife hovers in the air for a moment, dark still with blood and looking elegant in the lighting of Jim’s bedside lamp.

Once more, Jim gives out a content sigh. Content with the world, with his Tiger, with all the blood on his hands, but it still could be better. There could be more. So, with that in mind, he brings the knife down.

This time, Sebastian jerks hard. His body doubles up for a moment as brain power outweighs drugs as the knife sinks deep into Sebastian’s abdomen, sinks down until there’s nowhere else to go and so Jim forces it, he drags the handle and cuts open his darling’s body, a nice clean cut from his belly button down to right above his flaccid cock. Then Jim stops, pulls the knife out and tosses it to the ground where he threw the ruined pants earlier. His hands find the cut, the gash; the passage now to everything Sebastian _is_ and sticks his fingers inside, grips skin, and _pulls._

Sebastian’s not reacting anymore.

He’s gone limp and his chest has stopped rising. Blue eyes are growing foggy. His tears have stopped and now there’s only a light trail of water falling down the corner’s of his face.

Jim doesn’t notice.

He tears open his sniper’s body until he can get a hand down inside him, warm and wet and sloppy. From the outside, Jim maneuvers his cock to slide right back into Sebastian’s body and from the inside, he feels around until he pushes aside intestines and feels for what he’s searching for.

“Ah,” He groans, “Good-boy.”

Grips Sebastian’s rectum, squeezes until he’s moaning from the pressure of his own hand and starts fucking into it, fucking into Sebastian’s body which is slowly turning cold. The dead weight of it moves with his sharp movements, there’s a sickening squelching that’s blood and entrails and lube, coming to a steady climax that forces Jim to throw his head back, moan loud and squeeze that much harder as he comes inside Sebastian’s body.

After a few moments, Jim pulls his softening cock out along with his hand soon after, doesn’t bother cleaning up and just slides up to bed to lay next to his lover’s body, his corpse, and drapes a leg over his ruined middle.

“So perfect, my beautiful Tiger.” Jim coos, cups the side of Sebastian’s face with his bloodied hand and turns his head towards him so he can kiss the trails of tears away, smearing blood everywhere as he does. “So good, my Basher, ‘Bastian.” He nuzzles, kissing cold lips and getting a dead stare as a reply. “My Sebastian. I love you.”

He falls asleep after maneuvering Sebastian’s arm around him, keeping him close, and Jim doesn’t wake once that night.

_I love you, I love you, I love you…_


End file.
